And with a bang of the door, they were gone. I lay in Jorie’s crib, buried under toys, and tried to see the world through their eyes. I looked up at the rails of the crib and at the sunshine slanting in through the window blinds. I rolled over and scrunched myself down in the corner of the crib.

Suddenly, I felt a chilling sense of fragility, helplessness. What if my parents didn’t come back? How long would I have to wait in this crib? What if I got hungry? How would I tell them if I had pain?

I didn’t like feeling so helpless. I prefer feeling like I have everything under control, always able to take care of myself. As a competent, healthy adult, it’s easy to forget my inherent human fragility, my dependence on others.

As I lay there in the crib, I felt so…humbled. I also felt inspired to be more present, more empathetic, more fully alive to my own children and those who need me. This, I think, is the good and proper work of empathy: By placing ourselves inside the lives of others, we begin to understand how they view the world. We stop seeing them as “other.” We see them as ourselves.

When I went to Bolivia with World Vision this year, I experienced something similar. These children were not other mothers' children. These children were MY children. That was MY daughter wearing a ragged shirt. That was MY son going hungry.

The message of the Gospel is that yes, we ARE our brother’s keeper. Yes, we ARE our neighbor. What hurts my brother hurts me. What my neighbor lacks, I can supply. If I’ve resolved anything for 2012, it’s this: to feel what others feel and not look away.

if only I could go back and teach these lessons to my children. I do believe there is hope; now, as teenagers, they are receiving a crash course in love and respect toward others. I pray the Lord blesses them despite my ignorance and lack of parenting skills. Hindsight is always 20/20, and God's LOVE and FORGIVENESS is ALWAYS 100%.